christmas means more than a week at home

and i know i know i know i have it lucky—

i have a home, and two (rich) parents,

and i have never been hit or tracked or kicked out.

christmas means clashing family members

hiding in plain sight, folding my shoulders in

(you need to fix your posture--you’re the reason my posture is like this)

means pushing away everything to be the perfect child.

christmas means presents, which is nice, of course.

what child doesn’t like getting things for free?

there’s nothing i need. want, sure, and the books pile up.

i would trade it all for happiness.

christmas means overwhelming social media

and no time to ask do you celebrate?

merry christmas either way

it’s a thousand traditions i never learned.

christmas. my mom says we celebrate it—

the secular version, of course, religion has no place in our house.

do we? do i?

christmas greetings make me sick. i have no interest in our tree or decorations besides their pure aesthetic value. if i listen to those darn christmas songs again i’ll bang my head against the wall.

the presents are nice. maybe i’m a capitalist. 

i don’t celebrate christmas. i don’t think.

happy holidays.